Jungle Appetite

Aimless drifting swallowed by a hungry tide
Questions still unanswered

We drift ashore and bluster guided appetites emerge,
Behold the glory of the jungle’s muted chaos in the salty air,
Gulls fly in retreat and attack, spread overhead with cries of civil war.

When are we truly born?

When we hear the winds rustle in the trees and know which is ours,
When the rush of distant rivers calls us to drink and the path is clear and unbroken,
When we stumble through vines and feel their caress before leaving them behind.

When we watch the gorilla whore herself to the lowly and the mantis defeat the mighty.

When snakes coil languidly through the manes of lions and iguanas submit to a pounding sun.

When the sex of plants fly in the air and the insect buzz becomes harmonic and tongues flit in unison to their song.

When bodies dip in bodies.

Then we are born.
Then we are free.